


The Legend of Killua

by tinktheloser



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinktheloser/pseuds/tinktheloser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Only the Avatar can master all four elements and be the keeper of balance. But will the new Avatar, a young noble named Killua, run away from his identity? Or will he, with the help of his new friends, face his family, and face his destiny, to bring balance to world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Avatar Killua

**Author's Note:**

> What started as a simple ask about Gon and Killua's possible bending turned into an entire au with plot twists and everything. How did this happen.

“The guests aren’t going to want to see the Zoldyck heir with a permanent _scowl_ , Master Killua.

Killua scrunched up his nose as he tugged on his dress robes in front of his mirror.

“These _honored guests_ can go suck on some toads,” he retorted to his servant, Canary. She hid her chuckle with a cough, quickly sobering up.

“At least soften it up,” she said, holding a tunic and other pieces of his outfit for him. “No one likes a party pooper.”

“ _I_ like party poopers,” Killua protested. He took the tunic out of her hands and tugged it over the robes. “Especially if it’s literal _shit_. Maybe in the punch or something. It would ruin everyone’s day and they’d all start complaining and wouldn’t want to be at this damn party anymore.”

“Which would mean you wouldn’t have to go?” Canary finished for him.

“ _Exactly_.”

With a sigh, Canary twirled her finger at him, gesturing for him to turn around. “Well, if you’re not going to play nice,” she said as she started wrapping a golden and deep red, satin sash around Killua’s waist, “then at _least_ keep a clean tongue. When you throw around foul language, _I’m_ the one that gets in trouble for it.”

Killua sneered at their reflection. “ _Fiiiine_ ,” he drawled, making a show of crossing his arms in disdain. “I don’t see how that woman thinks _you’re_ the one that taught me how to swear, anyway. It’s _Milluki_ she should go after.”

“ _That woman_ happens to be my boss,” Canary responded, tying the sash and smoothing out the drapes of the tunic. “And _your_ mother. You’re going to get me fired if you keep insulting her.”

Killua huffed. “She’s hardly a _mother_ ,” he muttered as he allowed Canary to direct him around further.

“Hush. Save the rest of those comments for _after_ the party.”

“Yes, _mom_.”

It was another few minutes before Canary was satisfied with Killua’s attire. If it had been him making the decisions on what to wear, he probably would have dishonored the family—again. But today, he’d have to appear as the child—and heir— of an elite, noble family of the Fire Nation that he is. Which meant heavy dress robes and accessories and—his least favorite— _standing up straight._ He spared a final glance in the mirror, watching as forced himself into nobility mode. Fake smile, fake interest, back straight, shoulders relaxed, hands where they were visible. It was all too easy to slide under this mask.

He and Canary parted ways on the way to the courtyard, where the first part of the party was being held. She slid off to the edges of the yard, where she wouldn’t be seen but could be easily called upon. Killua hovered around the door, his eyes scanning the small crowd that had already arrived. There were mostly other nobles milling about the lantern-lit lawn, but here and there he recognized high ranking officials of the military who held court in the Royal Council.

It wasn’t a secret what this party was for. It was to feel each other out, to know where allegiances lay. The current Fire Lord was dying, and a new one would soon be appointed. And despite how open the man had been, there was no telling what would happen. Would he continue on as though nothing had changed? Or would he shake things up, make his mark as new Fire Lord? It had happened in the past, and Killua wouldn’t be surprised if it happened again. If the natives of the Fire Nation had one weakness, it was pride. And a Fire Lord wasn’t fit to rule if he didn’t do _something_ to etch his name into history.

It was exhausting to think about. At least none of the Royal Family was coming tonight. Killua recalled once meeting the young prince, grandson of the current Fire Lord. He was only a few years older than Killua. They had been young when they met, but the blood of the Fire Nation ran strongly in the prince. Killua remembered how the prince’s eyes had burned even then, as a kid.  

If the next Fire Lord was anything like that prince, then something worth remembering was _bound_ to happen.

Killua spotted Kikyo, his mother, on the other side of the courtyard chatting with the wife of a general. Kikyo turned her head and met his gaze, as if she’d known he was looking. She kept her sickeningly sweet smile, but her eyes sharpened demandingly. Killua resisted rolling his eyes, but looked away and made a show of descending the steps to attempt socializing. The destination he had in mind was the large table of appetizers in the middle of the courtyard, but he meandered around for a while first, taking and almost friendly and interested appearance.

As he wandered, Killua kept an eye out for the rest of his family. His father, Silva, head of the Zoldyck Household, was speaking in quiet tones to a small group of officials that Killua was certain belonged to the War Council. He had no idea why they were here, and frankly wasn’t sure he wanted to. To anyone else, the conversation would appear to be a casual chat, but Killua recognized the glint in Silva’s eyes. Pursing his lips, he moved on.

Milluki, one of his older brothers, was, to no one’s surprise, digging into the appetizers.

“Oi, Piggy,” Killua greeted as he approached. “Where’s Illumi?”

Milluki sneered through his mouthful of seaweed-wrapped fish. “Not here, brat,” he replied, spewing out fish bits.

“Helpful,” Killua retorted flatly. “Just tell me if he’s in the Fire Nation or not.”

“How should I know?” Milluki snapped, swallowing his bite. “He’s been gone for a few days, so I’d imagine Dad sent him out on another trip.”

Killua blinked. He hadn’t known that. Where would their father send their oldest brother at a time like this? Illumi often ran “errands”, but now?

Shaking his head, Killua brushed past Milluki and reached for some food. That would be something to worry about later.

It was a quiet party, and an hour later Killua was leaning against a pillar, bored out of his mind. The appetizer table had been moved, leaving nothing else to eat or pass the time with. Later in the evening, he figured Silva would take his guests inside for the feast he could smell being prepared in the kitchens, but they didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave the courtyard, despite the setting sun and darkening skies. Killua had finally spotted his youngest sibling, Kalluto, darting around the guests earlier, unseen. They were likely gathering pieces of gossip for Kikyo, while apparently practicing moving swiftly and silently. Which probably meant that Kalluto, too, was bored of the party. At least they could actually get away with something like that. Killua could only entertain himself by watching.

Sadly, they’d disappeared again, leaving Killua with nothing to amuse himself with.

With a sigh, Killua pushed himself off the pillar, debating between either bothering Milluki or just making a retreat. Before he could decide, however, movement toward the entrance to the grounds caught his eye.

A large group was making its way through, and Killua’s eyes widened as he immediately recognized the members as the Fire Sages. Surprised chatter sprang up among the guests as they approached. Killua shuffled closer, eyeing them intently.

Silva stepped forward, and the chatter ceased.

“My lords,” he spoke, his booming voice echoing in the courtyard. “What brings you here this evening?”

Killua watched Silva carefully. The man had been taken off guard, and was mildly irritated by it. The Fire Sages hadn’t been invited, after all.

But, with a glance at the old wisp of a man leading the progression, it was apparent that they had come bearing some sort of a plan. Killua didn’t like the grin he wore.

“Lord Silva of the Zoldyck family,” the old man wheezed out a greeting. “We come with great news. Where is your son, Master Killua?”

Murmurs sprang up again as all attention was focused on him. Killua tensed, glancing at his father, who peered back curiously. With a quick jerk of his head, Silva called Killua over. Killua swallowed and shuffled forward. What did they want? It was too early to give him birthday greetings.

Between one step and another, however, Killua felt a hunch form in his gut, which slowly began to sink.

“He is here,” Silva answered, turning his head back to the Sages. “What is your business with him?”

“Simply to deliver him news,” the old sage responded. “Please, allow us to speak with him.”

Silva threw another glance at Killua as he approached. Then, he nodded, and wordlessly withdrew to stand with Kikyo off to the side.

Killua did his best to remain calm as he stopped just in front of the steps to the complex, silently looking at Sages that stood before him. They took it as a cue to proceed, and the old man nudged another, younger Sage forward. He drew a scroll from his robes and opened it.

“Master Killua of the Zoldyck family,” the younger Sage read, loud enough for the whole courtyard to hear. “We, the Fire Sages, are honored to present to you your heritage—.”

“Traditionally, we are to wait until you are of age, but you have progressed and matured more quickly than we could have imagined,” the old man interrupted. “Anyway, carry on.”

The younger Sage pursed his lips but continued. “Master Killua, we are honored to present to you your heritage as the new Avatar!”

A heartbeat of stunned silence, in which Killua felt his whole body freeze. And then, a burst of chatter and applause. Cheers were called and hands were waving in excitement.

“It’s about time!” he heard someone exclaim.

“Yeah, the old Avatar hardly ever even showed his face!”

“Maybe Master Killua can actually _do_ something, unlike the last one.”

Everyone was ecstatic about the news.

Everyone except Killua.

His heart hammered against his chest. Chills raced down his spine, and his stomach felt like it was somewhere around his knees.

_No, this can’t be happening now, no no no—_

Allowing himself to blink—slowly, deliberately—Killua forced his breath to steady, his heart to slow, his back to straighten. He could not show weakness.

The Fire Sages looked at him expectantly. His mother and father still hovered off to the side, and he could _feel_ the gears in their minds turning and the corners of their mouths twitching.

“Avatar Killua,” the eldest of Fire Sages, a frail, wisp of a man, spoke. Killua nearly recoiled at the title. “I have come to known your two previous lives. Long has been the tradition of the Sages to guide the Avatar to success. It would be an honor if we, the Fire Sages, could assist you in your training.”

The old man was expecting an answer from Killua, right here in the courtyard of the complex. It was a disgusting play, to show up at the party like this. There were people of rank and power watching, some who held office in the palace of the Fire Lord himself. If Killua didn’t behave accordingly, there would be consequences as to who would be willing to ally themselves with him later on.

Killua wasn’t feeling up to behaving.

He set his jaw, narrowed his eyes in a glower. The generals or officers or whoever else was here knew who Killua was, they knew how he acted and how strong he’d already become. He was to be the next head of the family, despite the fact that he was the middle child. Every single move Killua made in the next moment would be watched and carefully analyzed. Killua knew this. His eldest brother, Illumi, would tell him that it was the perfect moment to boost their status, to make connections in higher places and to show that the Zoldyck family was valuable and strong. His parents were waiting for him to take that opportunity. That was the only thing that kept them silent, assured that they’ve been presented with a road paved in gold.

On the flipside, it was also the perfect moment to make a total embarrassment of his family. And from the bubbling anger now simmering with the horror in his gut, Killua felt the inexplicable need to _fuck shit up._

So, with his head held high, Killua kept his lips casually closed and looked each of the Fire Sages in the eye, just long enough to tell them that he was fully acknowledging that they stood there. Every single one of them stared in return, either curious or expectant of his next move. Nothing could go wrong for them. He finished with the eldest, the old hag that stood in the front, leaning only slightly into his walking stick. The hag smiled almost encouragingly, only to hide the sick grin of accomplishment.

Killua blinked, slowly, deliberately.

Then, without a word, he turned on his foot and strode back inside the complex.

Protests and murmurs sprang up behind him, the Sages calling to him, “Avatar Killua!” He passed his parents on the way, didn’t look up as his mother rushed towards with a screech ready to spring from her hideous, upturned mouth. He shut the door in her face and continued his way into the complex.

Killua’s grandfather, Zeno, had once told him that ignoring your opponent from the beginning was considered the ultimate form of humiliation. They were never worth your time in the first place. But to acknowledge them, to let them know that you giving them your attention as though they _could_ be worth your time—and _then_ to turn away and ignore them. That was how you defeated your enemies, because you’d considered their status and decided that it was _still_ nothing, still worthless.

However, this was a victory Killua could only briefly celebrate. He’d thought he’d have at least another few years before he was discovered, but to be outed _now?_ So soon before the next Fire Lord was to be named? It was a power play. If the Fire Sages had at one time devoted themselves to the Avatar, well that time was long gone. They were now a bunch of greedy piles of shit bones. Whatever “guidance” they would offer would only direct him to getting cozy with the new Fire Lord and the council that’s anointed. And if the Avatar allied himself with the Fire Lord? That was a path that lead the Fire Nation to _world leadership._

And this was something that Killua’s parents would only be _happy_ to go along with.

Killua stormed through the halls, passing servants and butlers on the way. Some fled at the sight of his frightening expression, others spoke their quiet concern. He brushed them off, finally getting to his room and shutting the door behind him. As he strode across the room, he tore off his dress robes and opened his wardrobe in search of travel clothes. He only owned a few shirts and pants that _didn’t_ bear the colors of the Fire Nation. Sighing, he quickly pulled on a pair and stuffed the rest into a sack.

“Master Killua?”

Killua froze, turning his head after a breath’s hesitation to see Canary holding the door open. He hadn’t heard her come in. Sloppy of him, but also a credit to her skills. Killua allowed his shoulders to slump as he turned back to his packing.

“You heard?” he asked tiredly.

Canary hummed an affirmative. “Your mother is very upset,” she added.

“Yeah.” Killua shrugged, tying the drawstrings and moving to his drawers of supplies. “Only with me, though, not with the news. What’s about Dad?”

“He’s speaking with the Fire Sages.”

“Of course he is.”

They were silent as Killua rummaged through his belongings, tossing scrolls aside and reaching for money, maps, and tools. He didn’t have to look at her to know that her gaze was locked on him, heavy and sad. He paused, leaning on his dresser to collect himself. This was happening. It was all happening right now, so soon. He drew a shaky breath.

“… Do you have anything to say?” Killua asked, almost timidly.

Canary was a master of hiding her emotions. She was raised an assassin, a solider, not dissimilar from him. This was a household of stone faced fighters, and she bore the image better than most.

And yet, her chin trembled.

“You are Master Killua,” she murmured thickly, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “That’s who you’ll always be.”

She said nothing about the new title he’d be graced. Killua swallowed the rock in his throat in looked down, gripped the edge of the dresser for dear life. He was still Killua. That’s all that mattered. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled through his nose. Then, he turned and reached for the bags on his bed.

“Master Killua.”

Killua looked up, stuffing the smaller bags into the pack. Canary’s expression had turned solemn.

“What will you have me tell Alluka?” she asked.

Flinching, Killua looked away. He couldn’t take Alluka with him. There was no time to prepare her, and she was too young to for the long journey he was about to take. She was so, so small and frail. As awful as it was to live in the House of Zoldycks, she would be safer here. Canary would see to that.

“Tell her— tell her to wait for me,” Killua answered quietly, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I’ll— I’ll come back for her. One day.”

Yes, she would be safer here. But that didn’t mean she would have to live the rest of her life here. Especially if her family didn’t even recognize that she was a _girl._

Killua shouldered the pack. Retrieving Alluka would be the only return trip here. Starting today, he was relieving himself of the Zoldyck title. It was something he’d always longed to do, but had never had a valid reason to do it.

Blinking, Killua realized that he was almost excited. He didn’t have to live here anymore. He wouldn’t be the heir, wouldn’t have to live up to the expectations he so detested. It filled him with a sense of relief, a liberation that he didn’t know he could ever feel. Suddenly, he had something to look forward to.

Still, looking at Canary reminded him that he was still leaving something behind.

“Thank you, Canary,” he murmured. “Please look after Alluka.”

Canary pursed her lips, but smiled and nodded.

“Have a safe journey,” she said, bending her torso into a deep bow.

And then she was gone.

Killua stared at the empty space where she’d stood, then adjusted the pack on his back and strode forward. He’d have to make a quick stop by the kitchens on his way to the back lawns. He didn’t know when he’d get another chance for food, might as well swipe some on the way out.

Unfortunately, Killua spotted his mother in the middle of the hall, barring the way. Kalluto, tiny Kalluto, stared at him from behind their mother’s kimono. Killua wanted to tell Kalluto that they should come with him. Kalluto was stronger than Alluka, could probably survive outside the household. But with their mother present, Kalluto wouldn’t.

_Maybe someday_ , Killua thought sadly.

“Killua!” Kikyo barked. “You will apologize to the Fire Sages.”

Killua didn’t break his pace as he walked forward. “No, I won’t,” he responded casually.

“They are crucial to our family’s wellbeing,” she insisted, clutching her fan at her side. “As the Avatar, and as the heir of the Zoldyck family, it is your _duty_ —!”

“Kalluto,” Killua interrupted, pausing to look at his sibling. They blinked. Killua allowed himself to smile at them. “Go tell Milluki he can have my toy collection,” he told them gently.

Kalluto hesitated, looking between Killua and Kikyo. When there was no rebuke from their mother, Kalluto turned and quickly shuffled away, towards the eastern bedchambers.

When they were safely out of the way, Killua turned to the woman he’d called his mother, all emotion completely wiped from his body.

“Move,” he commanded.

Fury twisted Kikyo’s face, and, with a screech, she reached for him.

It was a split second. Heat was drawing into Kikyo’s hands. She was going to attack him, to force him to stay. Killua could see it now. She would blame it on him, he’d brought it onto himself and was therefore incapable of living on his own. It was a system she’d used for years.

And he was done.

As fire formed from Kikyo’s hands, electricity was already shooting down Killua’s arm and to his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he directed the flow—the _flow_ , like water—to the woman before him. The lightning struck her with a _crack_ , and she jerked and seized and gasped before collapsing. Killua lowered his arm, relaxing his stance and staring at the twitching heap for only a moment. Then he stepped around her and moved on.

 

* * *

 

 Killua paused at the entrance to the stables, blinking slowly to ensure that he wasn’t seeing things. Standing at the last stall, holding what looked to be a food pack, was his grandfather.

“I had some servants gear your pup,” Zeno said, setting the pack on the floor next to the open stall. “It took me a while to convince them that you wouldn’t need the _royal saddle_ , given how long you’ll be traveling.”

Closing his mouth, which had been hanging ajar, Killua shifted the straps of his backpack and shuffled inside. The stables were bigger than that of the average ostrich-horse. It had been built with the idea that any of Zoldyck children might find _pets_. And no, it hadn’t been specifically because the pet that Killua found happened to be _enormous_. Still, the stalls were the perfect size for an adult saber wolf.

Said wolf poked his head over the stall door, peering out as Killua approached.

“Hello Mike,” Killua greeted, reaching up to scratch under Mike’s chin. Mike responded by rested her head on top of Killua’s and puffing air through her nose. Killua snorted, patting her muzzle. The saber wolf stood at about two times Killua’s height at the shoulders, making it difficult to reach the saddle without awkwardly climbing onto her side. Or a stool, which sat conveniently next to the stall.

“You’ll want to head north and take the route towards Ember Isle,” Zeno said, holding his hands behind his back. “There’s a small outpost harbor there that probably won’t take much notice that you’re traveling.”

“Not the Capitol Harbor?” Killua asked as he opened the stall door to lead Mike out.

“Your parents will have already notified officers there,” Zeno responded. “You won’t make it past the Azulon Gates.”

Killua nodded and climbed the stool to strap his bags into the travel saddle. “So, how do I know you’re not just sending me to get captured?” he asked, peering at his grandfather from the corner of his eye. “Illumi could be on vacation at Ember Isle, for all I know.”

Zeno appeared unruffled by the implication. “You know that really old Sage with the stick?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“He cheated in a pai sho game, once. I lost my favorite sword to him.”

Killua turned his head and gave his grandfather a quizzical look. Zeno huffed and waved his hand.

“Of course, I stole the sword back,” he amended. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have a grudge against the old fool. He didn’t even _try_ to pretend he wasn’t cheating. It was _embarrassing._ ”

Killua snorted. “Well, thanks,” he said, tying the last strap. “Does Dad know you’re helping me?”

“Who’s helping you?” Zeno asked, furrowing his brow. “I’m just getting back at those fat Sages.” And with that, he turned and began heading towards the complex, hands still clasped behind his back. “Make sure to keep that saddle clean,” he said as he went. “It’s the only one I know of that’ll fit that brute.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Killua’s lips as the old man disappeared down the hall. If Zeno was _helping_ him, that meant that Killua would be in his debt, which would be hard to repay on the road.

“Alright, Mike,” Killua murmured, leading the wolf out of the stables. “We’re going on a vacation. Probably around the world, or something like that. You up for that?”

Mike panted contentedly and nudged Killua’s forehead. Then, as if in response to the question, she crouched down and waited.

Taking it as a yes, Killua climbed onto Mike’s back and stroked the fur between her shoulder blades. He glanced behind him at the complex in the distance. The size of the place rivaled that of the Royal Palace. But there was a gloom to it that never made it comfortable to be near, not even as a child. Maybe it was the militaristic style of the family. Maybe it was the dark history behind the Zoldycks. Killua didn’t know, but the thought of never returning as a Zoldyck filled him with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. It was as if a weight had disappeared and was replaced with something lighter than air, something lifting his shoulders and making it easier to breathe.

Killua caught sight of a small red smudge against the hills leading up to the complex. It was his grandfather, shuffling leisurely away. And, even further, was another smudge that caused a shiver to run down his spine. Killua could almost feel the cold gaze from the broad figure standing at the entrance of the complex, which could only be his father.

If there was anything Killua knew about Silva, it was that the only head-start he would receive was a day at the most. Killua drew a long breath. Better get started then.

With a pat and a whistle, Killua directed Mike north, disregarding the path for now. If he kept at a moderate pace, he’d make it to the outpost harbor by sundown.


	2. Escape - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all of my experience writing fanfics, the second chapter was always the trickiest because it has to set the pace. Sorry it took so long. Also thank you for the comments and kudos!

The daylight was fading to dusk when Killua and Mike found the Northeast outpost harbor. The smell of salt lay heavy in the air, a light breeze sweeping it in from the black sea that lay just beyond the post. It was small, with only a few ships docked to the stone and wooden decks. One or two groups of sailors were milling around as merchants closed up shop and lit the torches.

Killua eyed the harbor from behind the thicket of bushes and trees just on the edge of the clearing where the dirt road met a stone path. This was one of the few times he silently cursed his white hair. Even though it was dark, it wouldn’t be hard for someone to spot and recognize him as That Zoldyck Kid. Word of his Avatar-ness and running-away-ness likely hadn’t reached here yet, but it wouldn’t take much probing by even an idiot to find out that he’d been here.

Still, he needed a ship, and for that he needed a captain. Even the most honorable of sea captains couldn’t say no to a nice bribe.

Mike nudged Killua’s head with her muzzle, uttering a brief whine.

“Shh,” he hissed, batting her away. “Snacks later. Sneaky time now.”

Mike huffed, and Killua stroked her nose in silent sympathy. After making sure she was as hidden as a massive wolf could be, he pushed through the thicket and, putting on a confident—sneaky—air, strolled toward the harbor.

Earth gave way to stone under his feet, and Killua could hear the low tide water sloshing against the stone slab and the wooden docks. The whole outpost, he realized, had been built out onto the bay to make up for the shallow waters. That way, the ships could come directly to the post without anchoring too far into the bay.

Killua shoved his hands into his pockets, keeping an eye out for someone bearing some sort of indication of being a captain. He spotted a few soldiers and navy going in and out of the taverns and inns. He noted that a couple of the ships docked were military. They would probably be among the first to be sent after him, should his father decide to bring the matter to national attention.

What a shitty thought, Killua mused.

Toward the end of the dock, however, was a smaller, non-military boat. Not daring to get his hopes up, Killua approached with casual but cautious intent.

The steel ship rocked gently in the small waves as he crossed the loading ramp. After a quick glance, however, Killua noted that the ship deck was empty. Even so, there were scrapes and thumps coming from below deck. Killua paused. He didn’t like the idea of boarding without permission, but he stepped forward anyway.

“Anyone on board?” he called out, peering at the deck.

Something heavy dropped, causing the ship to rock to the side. Killua spread his legs a little to even his stance and brace himself.

“ _Ack_ —ah, down below!” a muffled voice responded, to Killua’s surprise. “What’s your business?”

“Need to speak with the captain,” Killua said, frowning at the entrance to the cargo hold where the voice was coming from. “Permission to board?”

“Yeah— _urk—_ granted!”

With a shrug, Killua moved towards the the cargo hold and climbed down the stairs.

The dark hold was lit by a single lantern, filling the air with the scent of burnt oil. Boxes and crates were stacked and scattered about, different scents indicating different substances and merchandise. It must be a merchant’s ship, Killua noted.

“Hello?” Killua spoke into the dim hold, stepping toward the lantern.

“Hang on—ah, there we go,” a gruff, nasal voice said from behind a stack of crates. A tall, lanky man dressed in plain sailor’s clothing appeared around it, dusting his hands off. His small, round glasses glinted in the light of the flame.

“What’d’ya need?” he asked.

He seemed harmless enough, so Killua opened his mouth to respond, but paused when something fastened in the man’s belt caught his attention. It may have been sheathed, but Killua had studied more than enough Water Tribe scrolls to recognize the blue and white hilt of a Southern Tribe hunting knife.

Killua blinked. “You from the Water Tribe?” he asked, struggling to keep the awe out of his voice.

“Oi, kid, keep your nose in your own business,” the man snapped, waving his hand almost in a shooing motion. “And no, I’m _not_ from the Water Tribe, _thank you_.”

Killua raised a brow, stuffing his disappointment and irritation back into a no-fucks attitude. “Alright, then which tribe did you steal that knife from?”

The man’s eye twitched, his hand grazing the hilt of the knife. “Look brat, if you don’t need anything, then do me a favor and scram, I got some stuff to do.” With a _hmph_ , he turned around to continue his business.

Killua rolled his eyes but said, “Actually, I’d like to speak to the captain.”

The man grunted, bending down and opening a random crate to shuffle through its contents. “Captain’s out, come back in the morning,” he said.

“Where is he, then?”

The man lifted his head to glare at Killua out of the corner of his eye.

“Urgent business, you see,” Killua offered with a shrug.

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Then, the man let out a sigh.

“How urgent, exactly?” he asked exasperatedly.

Killua grinned.

Moments later, he was following the man back to the docks and toward the small cluster of taverns and inns. It had already gotten dark enough that the shop and inn keepers were lighting the rest of their lanterns and shutting the windows.

“You have a name, kid?” the man asked as they shuffled towards one particular tavern.

“Lee,” Killua responded without a thought.

The man huffed a short laugh. “Think of a better one,” he suggested. “People only use that one when they’re hiding something.”

Killua shrugged. Maybe Gozan? “What about you, old man?”

“Hey, I’m a teenager!” he barked. “Ah, sorta. I’m nineteen, anyway. And my name’s Leorio.”

Killua blinked, almost stopping in his tracks completely. “Seriously?” he asked, genuinely shocked. “A teenager?”

“You’re like twelve, brat, anyone older than you looks like an adult,” Leorio waved off.

“Right,” Killua drawled. Any more conversation was cut off when Leorio stepped into the tavern and light spilled across the patio.

It wasn’t crowded, but a fair murmur of pleasantries and small talks and a few tall tales bounced around the stone walls. Small torches lined the walls, giving the place a cozy atmosphere and a place for merchants and soldiers alike to relax while they drank their nightcaps. Killua scrunched his nose against the sharp scent of alcohol that wafted from everyone’s breath and mug, but smoothed his face enough to not look too out of place.

Leorio led them to a table in the corner, where a group of older sailors were chatting merrily and having their fill of meal and sake. Which was another way of saying that they would probably be drinking a shit ton for the sake of getting trashed, because that’s apparently what sailors did when they made port. Killua kept his clenched hands in his pockets, letting that be the only show of his distaste. Or was it envy? Man he couldn’t wait until his body could actually tolerate alcohol.

“Captain, kid wants to talk to you,” Leorio greeted the men, tossing a morsel of meat from the table into his mouth, to one of the sailor’s dismay. He gestured vaguely to Killua. “Something about urgent business or whatever.”

Killua glanced at the men of the table, but the only one looking up sat across from him, peering at him with hardly any interest. He was an old geezer, with wrinkles lining his weathered face, his gray top knot bound loosely, and he was fiddling with a pai sho piece as if thinking about starting a game. His clothing was average quality, but bore the colors of the Fire Nation. Merchants didn’t always advertise their nationalities, mainly for the sake of ease of business, but when dealing inside the nation, sometimes a show of loyalty made for even better business. Killua bit the inside of his lip. If that meant that the captain wouldn’t be leaving the Fire Nation, then he’d have to start his search all over.

“Oh?” the old man said, setting his mug down. “And who might this young man be?”

Leorio glanced at Killua out of the corner of his eye. “Says his name is Lee,” he said, as though that meant something.

The captain’s eye glinted, and some of the crew snickered. Killua resisted a sigh. He’d have to go with Gozan next time if Lee was just going to give him away so easily.

“Lee, is it?” the captain questioned, leaning forward. Killua glanced at the pai sho piece the man had been fiddling with. “You know, there’s not a lot of people with your kind of look,” he said, his eyes passing over Killua’s hair. “Would that have something to do with your, ah, urgent business?”

 _Busted_ , Killua groaned to himself. This guy hadn’t always been just a merchant. If he hadn’t had some experience in either politics or military or _both_ at some point, Killua would eat a lizard rhino dung-paddy. He had that same smug for shit air that was sometimes admirable if it wasn’t something that Killua had to deal with directly.

What a pain in the ass.

“You could say that,” Killua responded carefully. “My appearance is definitely the source of one of my current problems.”

“And you’re asking for a quiet passage on my ship?” the captain prompted, leaning back in his seat.

Killua narrowed his eyes. Yeah, okay, he was being kind of obvious, but that was a quick assessment. Leorio was peering at him oddly, probably reevaluating the kid standing next to him.

Killua glanced at the pai sho piece in the captain’s hand again, then blinked.

_Oh for fucks sake—_

His grandfather must have _hated_ the Sages to go _this_ far.

“Yes,” Killua admitted. “And I’m a bit short on time.”

The captain tilted his head. “We disembark at dawn, and we’ll be headed to a port off the coast of the Earth Kingdom. If you don’t have a specific destination, then I don’t see why not. But tell me, which one of your siblings should I be most worried about?”

Killua squeezed his sweaty hands inside his pockets to calm himself. This wasn’t something he wanted to think about, but it was a valid concern. Thankfully, the captain was keeping it relatively vague, though it was enough to prompt questions from the crew.

Still, honesty was the best policy in this specific scenario. Especially since they’d likely put on more speed.

“The eldest one,” Killua answered simply, not looking away.

The captain narrowed his eyes just a little, but otherwise gave no sign of a reaction.

The crew peered at Killua curiously, looking between him and their captain, as though wondering who the fuck was this white haired kid and why was their boss actually humoring him. The captain didn’t say anything for a moment, only fingered the piece in his hands as the tension steadily grew.

Then, with a cheery smile, the captain waved to the empty seat at a table.

“You look like you need some meat on ya,” he said, all professional air dropped and replaced with a merchant’s tongue. “We can talk _urgent business_ over food.”

Killua blinked, caught a bit unaware. And yet, as he was about to protest, his stomach gave a well-timed growl. Ah, hell.

Leorio clapped him on the back. “Well why didn’t you say you were hungry? Come on, the crew doesn’t bite—much.”

And with that, Killua was squeezed into the booth and had a bowl of stew with copious meat thrust into his hands.

Well, let it not be said that talking business over a warm meal wasn’t at least pleasant. It was probably a bargaining technique, seeing that Killua parted with a little more money than he’d previously been willing to give, but it was worth it. The captain, who introduced himself as Ling Wei, told Killua that he could buy another meal for the rest of the crew for the trouble of hauling around Mike in their cargo hold. That had been the tougher part of the bargain.

“So what kinda cargo are you bringing with you, is it just your lonesome?” Captain Ling had asked.

Well, lying about this part wouldn’t hold over well once they were loading the ship, so Killua had admitted, “Actually, I have a saber wolf. Think there’s enough room for her?”

Killua hadn’t expected some of the crew to choke on their food or spit out their drink, but he’d calmly wiped the wet rice off his cheek with the feeling that the price was about to be upped.  

Though, the amount that was demanded suggested that Captain Ling was fully aware of Killua’s access to money. That didn’t bode well, especially if Killua hoped to save any of it.

He wanted to ask if Captain Ling was at all acquainted to his grandfather, but that would equate to him spilling the beans and Killua would very much like to keep those beans to himself thank you very much.

When Killua left, thanking the captain and his men for their time and services, he was full and sleepy and ready to cuddle up with Mike for the night. And yet, he felt uneasy. Everything was going a little too smoothly for him. Perhaps Zeno had already put in a good word for Killua, or maybe the captain was simply an easygoing man that would gladly let a stowaway with a giant wolf on board, as long as he was paid his due.

But if Killua’s father had taught him anything, it was that good things never lasted, and the tough times were still to come.

Killua brought his hands to his mouth and breathed on them, rubbing them together in what he remembered his father calling Dragon’s Breath. It would keep him warm tonight, and would come in handy in the future.

It occurred to him that he’d eventually be going to one of the Poles to learn waterbending. Oh man, he’d be doing a lot of Dragon’s Breath then. Maybe there’d be a port on the way where he could pick up cold weather clothing and gear. He’d ask Leorio tomorrow.

Man, this was going to be a long journey. He was tired already.

* * *

 

Killua awoke with a jolt, only just managing to keep himself still as he struggled to steady his breathing. The floor rocked beneath him, and he braced himself in bleary confusion. With a look around, Killua remembered that they were on a ship. Mike couldn’t fit in the sleeping quarters, so Killua had made an agreement with the captain that they’d sleep in the cargo hold. The smell was musty and mixed with whatever wafted from the crates and boxes of merchandise, but Mike still bore the scent of the pine forests back home, so it was bearable.

Killua was leaning with his back against Mike, almost buried in her thick, black fur. She stirred, lifting her head and turning to nudge him with her muzzle.

“’m alright,” Killua told her, his voice hoarse with sleep. He reached up to scratch her nose. “Just a dream.”

Just a dream, indeed. Rather, it had been a nightmare, but one that Killua was more or less used to. Images of a dank and dark room, with the rattle of chains and the sultry whispers of his eldest brother’s voice dancing in the background. Then came the bottomless pit of his eyes, drawing Killua in, trapping and choking him all the while murmuring, “ _Run… run…_ ”

Killua drew a hand across his face, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I need a bath…” he mumbled, scrunching up his nose. “Remind me to look for lodging somewhere at our next stop.”

Mike responded by shifting and drawing her muzzle closer to his face… until she was running a giant tongue across it.

“ _Bleh--!_ Mike, that’s _not_ the kind of bath I meant!” Killua protested with a choked laugh. He shoved her muzzle away. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Mike sneezed and panted happily.

After another moment of stroking Mike’s fur, Killua heaved himself up. His plain tunic and trousers were wrinkled from sleep, so he paused to brush across the coarse fabric to smooth it out. He’d also have to look into buying a few more sets of clothes if he really did intend on traveling the world. But, that was something to think about later.

“Stay here,” Killua instructed Mike, patting her side. “I’ll go see if I can get us some breakfast.”

Mike let out a small _boof_ and rolled onto her side, preparing for another nap. Killua’s lips twitched with a smile, and he turned toward the stairs.

Emerging from the cargo hold was painful on the eyes due to the bright contrast, and he was momentarily overwhelmed by the scent of salt. Killua squinted against the sunlight, casting a glance around the deck.

It wasn’t the biggest of ships, but the crew made up for it. A dozen or two sailors and crewmates shuffled across the steel deck, going about their jobs. Killua meandered to the railing, taking a peak at the ocean. It was an endless grey-blue, as far as he could see. He’d seen the ocean before, and this hadn’t been the first time he’d traveled by ship, but he would always be amazed by the enormity of it.

Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He glanced over and looked down at the wake to see— _why was the water floating_.

Killua blinked, peering at the water floating around almost agitatedly just above the surface of the ocean. Then his brain caught up with him and he moved his gaze upward, just down the rail from him, and spotted someone moving their hands in tandem to the water.

 _Oh_.

“Gently—ack, come on don’t do that—,” Leorio was muttering to himself, twisting his arms and wrists as the water below sputtered and broke, before falling back into the sea. Leorio huffed in frustration and kicked the base of the rail. Killua peered at him for a moment, trying to keep his lips from twitching.

“I think it works better if you’re, you know, closer to the water?” Killua called to him.

Leorio visibly jumped, then furiously whirled around. His face twisted up in irritation as he pointed at Killua.

“What the hell, brat?” he demanded. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Killua snorted. He hadn’t snuck up on anyone. Not intentionally anyway.

“It’s not like you were paying any attention anyway,” Killua drawled, pushing off the railing and approaching the man. “And what was that about not being from a Tribe?” He gestured vaguely to the water Leorio had just bended.

Leorio’s brow twitched. “You’re real annoying,” he muttered, looking away. “You’re from the Fire Nation, right? You wouldn’t get it.”

Killua frowned. Actually, he would get it, probably. This doofus was just being stubborn. But he shrugged and started to turn around. It wasn’t his problem, he didn’t have to fix everybody.

Killua paused.

… Shit, that was kind of the point of being the Avatar wasn’t it?

Killua stifled the sudden urge to scream. Did he really have to go out and start solving everyone’s problems now that he was _officially_ the Avatar? Before, he’d been able to just go about his own business and worry about his own problems—and man did he have a load of problems.

He glanced back at Leorio, who had gone back to – badly—attempting to bend the water, despite being at least fifteen feet above it.

Being the Avatar also meant he had to pick his problems _carefully_. He couldn’t just go around fixing _everything_ , could he? He’d exhaust himself before he actually got anything done. When was the Avatar supposed to focus on fixing _themselves_ , anyway? How did they even have time for that?

Hardly any, apparently.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d been on a mission for breakfast and he’d have to get back to Mike before she got restless.

With one more glance at Leorio, Killua groaned to himself. He’d have to make this quick.

Shuffling back to the rail, close to Leorio but still respecting space, Killua grabbed a nearby bucket and set it by the rail before leaning over the rail and reaching toward the water. Then, dredging up everything he recalled from the waterbending scrolls, he honed in on the water and _pulled._

A small, frail orb of water emerged, shaking and shimmering as though trying to pick a shape to form but lacking the solid mass to keep it. It was a _lot_ harder to bend it at this distance, but he was trying to prove a point, so he bent his arms and wrists to pull it closer.

Killua glanced out of the corner of his eye, finding that Leorio was, in fact, watching him. Or, rather, ogling him with bulging eyes. When the orb of water was close enough, Killua began manipulating it to flow as more of a stream, letting it make funny shapes and move in place. The frailty and shimmer from before disappeared, and Killua smiled to himself. It had been a while since he’d done this, he was surprised it was going this well. 

“You were trying too hard to keep it in a single form,” Killua said, moving his arms around. “Water isn’t a solid, it has to keep a flow when it isn’t contained by something. So, just keep it moving.”

“I—you’re a _waterbender?_ ” Leorio hissed, turning towards him and gripping the rail with one hand.

“Um, sort of?” Killua responded, carefully bending the water towards the bucket. It wasn’t untrue, really. A quick look around the deck told him no one had else had seen him except Leorio. Good, this wasn’t something he’d been eager to reveal. “This is about all I can do,” he said, dropping the water in the pail with a wet _sploosh_. Scrolls only taught him so much. He’d need to find a teacher before he’d be able to do much more.

“There,” Killua said. “That should make it easier to practice with. Have fun.”

Leorio stared at him for a moment, as though unsure of what to do. Killua just stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away.

Before he could get far, though, Leorio spoke, “My grandmother was from the Southern Water Tribe.”

Killua blinked, turning around. Seriously, he was spilling his backstory _now_?

“She’s the one that gave me this knife,” he was saying, patting the hunter’s knife strapped to his side. “I didn’t steal it.” He was looking increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation, but Killua supposed this was the trade for the lesson?

Killua nodded. “Yeah, I figured when I saw you waterbending. Authentic enough, I think, even if you’re bad at it.”

Leorio bristled. “Like you were doing any better, brat,” he retorted, crossing his arms. But a grin spread across his face. “Heh, I’m gonna go to the North Pole one day to learn more, so you can stick that snobby act of yours up your ass when you see how great I get!”

Killua blinked, but let himself grin back. “Really?” he said. “Well, I gotta learn it too, so who’s to say I won’t beat you?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh you are _so_ on!”

Later, when Killua was back with Mike enjoying a hot breakfast, it occurred to him that he was really lucky Leorio was an idiot. A well-intentioned idiot, but he hadn’t guessed who Killua was yet, despite all the signs screaming “AVATAR”. Really, he shouldn’t go around bending like that in public if he wanted to keep his head down.

Killua sighed. Helping people was going to get him in trouble one day. Maybe he _should_ be sparing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was originally going to be longer, but I got impatient. welp. hope it was good.


End file.
